


Large Latte With Two Pumps of Angst

by Twentyonedaydreams



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coffeeshop AU, F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fill, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sherlolly Appreciation Week, every week is sherlolly appreciation week, mollock, okay i'll shut up now, who started that because it's an amazing idea, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:29:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3486572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twentyonedaydreams/pseuds/Twentyonedaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffee shop AU Where Sherlock and Molly work in a small cafe and enter a contest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Large Latte With Two Pumps of Angst

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Tumblr. Something about OTPs trying to make a better latte or drink. I know nothing about coffee, so just imagine that all of this sounds correct. Enjoy xx

It wasn't that she hated him exactly. It was just that he was a stubborn know it all and tended to be on the nasty side to most of the customers. So maybe they were working in a coffee shop earning the bare minimum when they should be chasing after the dreams they had when they still had energy. But that was no excuse for his jerk attitude to almost everyone who walked through the doors. No matter how many times it happened, he couldn't grasp the subject that people are cranky in the mornings, and the crankiness increases with the staggering lack of caffeine in their brains. Molly had learned by the afternoon of her first day that a caffeinated customer is a happy customer. Sure, she wasn't always the perkiest every morning, but she knew her place. Sherlock needed to learn that lesson.

"Well _sir_ , judging by the amount of sugary syrups you're adding to your coffee and the fact that you're pushing yourself in a vain attempt to lose weight tells me that you are trying to 'play the field' again. Not a wise choice. All women are idiots. They expect so much from even a casual date. I suggest you go for the extra scone, and stick with your desk job." Sherlock rushed the words out at a middle-aged customer as he was ringing up his complicated drink. "That will be ten pounds." He flashed a brilliantly faked smile to the man, who was blushing and fumbling in his pockets for the notes. The women in line behind him looked like they would slap Sherlock if they got close enough. Molly, who had been watching yet another deduction unfold, was about ready to slap him herself.

She stepped in just in time, helping an oblivious Sherlock dodge the glares and snark of a middle aged woman who was next in the queue.

“Why don’t you just make the drinks Sherlock, I’ll take over register.” Molly said through gritted teeth. Sherlock gave her the once over, something she always hated about him.

“Are you sure you’re capable of this? I seem to remember you flunking that math exam last week. It was a simple concept. And you’re so good at…. domestic things.” He narrowed his eyes at her, and waited for a response. Molly was livid, as well as blushing. She was sure her hands were shaking as she tightened the ties on her apron.

“Just make the drinks Sherlock.” She spat, pushing him out of the way of the register and slapping on a smile. “Good morning! Welcome to the Coo Coo Cha-brew. What can I get for you?”

The woman pursed her lips and stared at the menu. It was times like these that Molly wished she could get away with the bluntness Sherlock had. This lady had been standing in line for at least twenty minutes, and was a regular. She had to know at least one drink that she liked. People like her loved to waste her time though, letting their eyes skim over the drink menu twelve times before settling for their usual low fat latte with no whip and extra espresso. Molly was about ready to write that order on the cup, but she had been wrong before. Even predictable people change their minds she had learned. Sherlock let out a huff from where he was standing and Molly glanced back, figuring she had another few minutes. He was rolling his eyes and shifting his feet, eager to do something that required the brain.

Molly turned her attention back to the customer, whose eyes had suddenly lit up.

“I’ll have a large decaf latte with no whip. Low fat please.” She pushed the words out like a breath of air that had been held for too long, and Molly thought she recognized the panic in the woman’s eyes. She wrote the slightly altered order on a cup, and when she held it out for Sherlock to pick up, she heard him whisper.

“Pregnant. Just found out. Going decaf to protect the baby. Notice her shaking hands? That’s not the espresso. My guess is the husband doesn’t want kids.”

It was said so quickly that Molly barely caught it, and Sherlock was bustling away behind her, whistling a tune she couldn’t name.

“That will be two pounds fifty please.” Molly muttered, punching the drink into the machine and avoiding eye contact. The blonde woman handed her the exact amount, then went over to wait for her drink.

There were quite a few more deductions that day before lunch came around, including one serial killer, one left handed architect, and a kindergarten teacher with the flu that she wasn’t aware of. Molly couldn’t be certain of any of these things. She never saw them herself. Sherlock never missed a detail.

Their boss came in during her lunch hour, and posted a sign in the small shop window.

“What’s that?” Molly asked in between bites of a bagel. Sherlock was reading and completely ignoring his plate of chips. Molly considered stealing one.

“Contest. See who can make the best latte. And give it the best name. Winner gets a raise and three weeks off with pay. I want to see my employees a little more lively behind the counter. Maybe convince people that we do have something to wake them up, yeah?” And with that, their charismatic boss was gone.

“Boring.” Sherlock muttered, turning the page. Molly was lost in thought and grabbed a chip. They were always closed from noon to one so that they got a break and maybe a meal. It was usually the only time during her workday when Molly forgot she was at work. Today she was enthralled by the prospect of three weeks off. Three weeks away from the consulting jerk. Three weeks away from hot coffee spilling on her apron. Three weeks away from those pastries. She needed to win this contest.

Sherlock had been staring at the same page for ten minutes. He kept rereading the same sentence and begging his mind to absorb some of it. None of it was sticking. A contest. An opportunity to get a raise and three weeks away from this enclosed space of boring people. A raise to buy science equipment. He would win. He would sleep in peace without his mind being plagued with thoughts of Molly.

“Where did that come from?” He muttered to himself. Although he knew the answer. He wished he could change it, but the thoughts kept popping up in his mind.

He was falling for Molly Hooper.

Three weeks off would do him some good.

The next day was the start of the contest, and Molly Hooper was prepared to bring her A game. Unbeknownst to her, so was Sherlock. They entered the small cafe together, having unusually pleasant conversation. Molly had even been able to fit in one of her classic coffee themed jokes and had earned a chuckle from the usually sour faced man.

They got to work setting up the machines, Molly humming and Sherlock whistling.

“So. About that contest.” Molly brought up the question as she was refilling the sugar containers, watching Sherlock from the corner of her eye.

“Mhm. Yes.” He muttered, focused on rewriting the specials for that day on the chalkboard.

“Any interest?”

“Oh. No. Dull idea, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh yes. Completely dull.” She set the sugar container down a little harder than she had intended, realizing she actually had a chance in this thing.

The first customer came in through the door, and Molly jumped at the ring of the bell. She stayed where she was though, and motioned to Sherlock to go to the register. He motioned that she should. She raised her eyebrows and nudged him. He furrowed his brows and gave her a light shove. Stumbling forward, Molly sighed and tried to put on a civil face.

“Good morning. Welcome to the Coo Coo Cha-Brew. How may I help you?”

“Nice rhyme.” Sherlock muttered, and she kicked him where he stood behind her.

“Hm. I’m not really sure what to get.” The teenager in front of her was fiddling with a keychain which looked fairly new. Molly tried to deduce something about the young man, but then realized that she was just staring them down.

“Oh. Well, we have a special contest going on right now. We have to try to beat each other in making you a drink. You feeling brave?”

A weight seemed to be lifted off of the boy’s shoulders, and he nodded. Molly grinned and told him to take a seat. She then whirled around to get started, only to find Sherlock frantically pouring syrups into a large cup.

“Um Sherlock? He didn’t order anything.”

“I know.” He said, whipping his head up and meeting Molly’s eyes.

“So. What are you doing?”

“Making a new drink. I call it ‘The Triple Homicide.’ Three pumps of chocolate, three pumps of mint, three pumps of toffee.”

Molly widened her eyes. “Why are you making a new drink? I thought the whole contest was dull?”

“It is, but three weeks off aren’t.”

Molly shook her head and rushed to make her own drink. Sherlock was cracking up at her less than a minute later. She was holding a large cup filled with whipped cream and drizzled syrups.

“Did you leave any room for coffee, Hooper?” He asked, taking the cup and feeling its weight.

“Yes I did!” Molly defended, taking the steaming cup back. “I call it ‘Coffee With A Clutz’. It’s a tasty blend of strawberry, raspberry, and blackberry syrup. Three flavors that don’t seem to go in coffee, but pleasantly surprise you with their adorable clumsiness.”

Sherlock looked at her like she was crazy, and took his drink to the customer. Molly followed suit, and soon they were watching the young boy with bated breath.

“Well?” They both said when he had finished.

“They’re both really amazing. I can’t choose. Sorry. Keep the change.” The man left a large bill on the table, and Molly groaned.

“All that work for nothing.”

“Well, not exactly nothing.” Sherlock remarked.

“What? Tell me one thing we gained from tying.”

“Neither of us get time off.”

“How is that a pro?” Molly asked, hands on her hips.

“Because now I can do this.” He said as he stood, pulling her into a kiss.

“Hey! No PDA in the cafe!” They broke apart and saw their boss standing at the door.

 **  
**“Nice rhyme.” They both mumbled, going back to their work.


End file.
